Born to be Broken (Alpha's Claim Book 2) Read online

Shepherd turned toward his desk, his attention going back to the report. "Hunger strike."

  Jules, unsurprised by such a statement, remained blank. "When she is returned, what are your expectations of Miss O'Donnell?"

  Exceedingly irate, Shepherd hissed, "For her to resume her duty as my mate."

  Only psychological damage would lead a pregnant, pair-bonded Omega to hunger strike and jump off a building in madness. Jules grew blunt. "And if that's not possible? Whom do you intend to serve as surrogate Alpha to see to her until she delivers your heir?"

  Muscles straining, Shepherd warned, "You presume much, Jules. She will be returned and her behavior corrected."

  Jules was second-in-command for a good reason—he was shrewd and willing to act. Employing candor, he stated, "Without physical contact the Omega will willingly accept, she may miscarry."

  Shepherd was not to be gainsaid by man or woman. His final order was issued. "You are dismissed."

  Grasping that the situation was beyond his original assessment, Jules saluted and removed himself from the room.

  Shepherd took to his desk, alone. Memorizing the reports flashing on his COMscreen, every so often he habitually glanced behind him, expecting to see Claire pacing. But she was not there. She was gone… He knew in his bones that his mate had sought out the noble man who had offered help. The Beta would take her in, tend her, comfort her, touch her. The very idea another might hold her… act as a surrogate… infuriated him.

  Gnashing his teeth, Shepherd swore. The Beta would die screaming.

  Had Shepherd not purred, growled, stroked, followed every instinct to rouse her back from her stupor? He'd even tried to explain. Him! The Alpha, the strongest who was never questioned, had tried to reason with an Omega. But she had not even blinked.

  She'd slipped so far out of his grasp.

  It was her vocation to stay, to be devoted, to love him, to obey. Had he not seen to her needs? Had he not given her nice dresses and the best food? Had he not spent hours simply petting the girl until she was completely content? What was one unpleasant situation compared to that?

  Had he not saved her life in more ways than one?

  Impregnating her ensured her survival, justified her maintenance to his followers. No one could question the safekeeping of his baby. More importantly, it gave her purpose and distraction. Shepherd could not tell her in so many words—she was not one of them, remained far too determined in her ideal of goodness to comprehend the greatness of his calling. Furthermore, the reasoning behind his actions was unnecessary for her to know. Shepherd knew if Claire realized the true nature of what was coming, she would only fret more. She would cry for her pathetic citizens instead of giving all her attention to him. Direct treachery was best: it kept him in control of her fate. But she was willful, so damn obstinate with her foolish romantic notions.

  Shepherd's fist crashed against the table. He roared, upended the entire thing until papers flew and his COMscreen cracked against the cold floor.

  Svana's unexpected arrival had been infuriatingly problematic. Not only was she displeased by what she had found, Svana would have ripped Claire's beautiful eyes out had Shepherd not pacified his beloved once she'd seen what he'd kept hidden away. You don't reason with provoked Alphas, you show action. Had he not fucked her loudly, broadcasting his favor to ensure the territorial female did not view the Omega as a threat, Claire would have been murdered the first moment he left her alone. He had done what was necessary, for both of the women.

  It was the price to keep Claire.

  Yet he had lost her anyway, even before she had run. Watching her mentally slip away, his rush of anger, his outright fury… it was the same rage that had burned him when he rose from the Undercroft to murder Premier Callas… only to find the leader of Thólos—the man who'd sentenced his mother to the Undercroft—was richly laced with the scent of Svana's sex.

  Shepherd had drawn a deep breath, momentarily stunned as he processed what could not be—until he understood what Svana had done.

  The speech he'd prepared for his greatest enemy, the one perfected night after night caged underground, was forgotten. What should have been a quick death, the body to be displayed, ended in blood dripping from the ceiling, Premier Callas' entrails flung all over the floor.

  And then came pain far more horrific than any agony his Da'rin markings might produce. His beloved had defiled herself, purposefully tainted her body by mating with the enemy.

  Shepherd had confronted Svana, the woman he had loved from the first moment they'd met in the dark, the ethereal creature that was his whole life, who held his soul in her beautiful hands. The woman who had set him free, empowered him to gain control of the Undercroft—the very woman he'd killed for, suffered for, ached for.

  Since their first sexual experience, Shepherd had only ever lain with the occasional estrous high Omega his beloved had procured for them—so they could fulfil the animal urge to rut together as they were meant to. For lesser beings, Alpha/Alpha pairings were difficult, as there was no pair-bond, and it was in their natures to challenge for dominance. But the two of them were beyond such sordid behavior. Or so he'd thought. He had never wavered… not once.

  She had.

  She had fucked the Premier, thrown what they had aside for some distorted ploy, as the final undiscussed crux in her plan. As Shepherd heard her speak on the matter, as she convincingly painted a grand scenario, he could not bring himself to question what she'd never mentioned. Svana had planned her seduction all along. Though she held Shepherd and spoke of her love, he was attuned to her; he could smell what was wrong in her scent. What had been done was even worse than he'd originally believed; Svana had chemically forced an unlikely ovulation. She wanted to bear the child of her enemy… to have a traitor's lineage continue the line—a man who wasn't infected with Da'rin, who was born with superior bloodlines—a man who might even be the carrier of the alleged antibody to the Red Consumption in his veins.

  Not like Shepherd, who didn't know which of the countless prisoners who'd raped his mother had fathered him. His blood had not been fostered through generations with access to secret science and inoculations against disease. Instead, he was disfigured by Da'rin that burned in the sun and would always mark him as a castoff.

  She had not voiced it, but Shepherd interpreted the truth. Svana found him wanting in the most primal of ways.

  All those years, Shepherd's fidelity had been one sided. Svana did not hesitate to admit she'd taken other lovers. Hadn't he? After all, were they not Alphas? Was it not their right? She had stroked his chest and smiled so perfectly, reminding him that what they shared was beyond the physical. They shared a great destiny, an eternal spiritual bond of love.

  Gutted, Shepherd had fulfilled his duty to his loyal Followers, to the dead mother he hardly remembered. Thólos fell, everyone playing their part to perfection; yet he was less for it. The world had shifted, he had achieved greatness, but what was he left with? Nothing. A big black hole where the light had gone out. He was incomplete.

  But then he smelled something untainted hiding under the poignant stink of decay. Like a gift from the Gods, Claire was delivered; unlikely virtue born out of the filth of Thólos. A lotus. Claire, with her convictions and her timid bravery, walked up to a man like him—stubbornly waited for hours, a lamb amongst the wolves—to beg for help from the very villain inflicting suffering on the friends she would save.

  One breath of her and he would have taken her, heat or no. The Gods had simplified his spiritual culmination by delivering her in estrous.

  As he'd rutted the willful, strange thing, Shepherd found she wriggled so wonderfully, felt so perfectly snug encasing his cock, that he had to ensure she could never leave. As Svana had claimed their devotion was beyond the physical, their love divine, Shepherd felt perfectly justified in taking Claire, in creating a corporeal mate—an attachment that would only benefit the unruly Omega. He bonded to keep Claire for himself, his reward for service to the great
er good of mankind reborn. The green-eyed little one's purity was now his own, her nearness succor. In Claire, Shepherd had regained that missing piece, the covetous need to possess something innocent, achieved.

  Yet, now his bonded mate was gone with his child in her belly, wandering a city that was destined for plague.

  The Omega would never come back to him willingly, not while the pair-bond was so damaged. Shepherd would have to return Claire by force.

  He could almost hear the echo of her words in the air: do not give me cause to hate you more.

  What had gone through the mind of the Omega he'd found unconscious on the bathroom floor? He'd anticipated anger, but found something impaired far beyond his reasoning. His coupling with Svana had left Claire unresponsive and empty—left the cord so fractured, all Shepherd could feel from her was an echo of desolation.

  It was not a sensation he enjoyed.

  No amount of attention or space had made a difference. Glassy eyes looked at him with judgment and hatred no matter how he tended her, touched her, or purred. All her favorite foods had been prepared, new dresses put in her drawer… she had not even noticed.

  Claire O'Donnell belonged to him. Shepherd would find her, drag her back… and force feed her if he fucking had to. He would make her adore him like she was supposed to. Because she was his, only his, and he did not share his things. Ever.

  He had even prevented the sharing of her body with his beloved. Was that not something?

  Corday had rushed to carry out his mission for the resistance, eager to return to Claire. It wasn't because he didn't trust her to stay put, it was because he didn't trust her at all. The look in her eyes when Senator Kantor had arrived to guard her had been nothing but calculating. There was none of her former fear or skittishness, her reaction numbed as she sized up the Alpha.

  The Senator could see the change in her as well, Kantor reacting with cautious courtesy. They exchanged pleasantries, Corday made them coffee, and then he left to meet Brigadier Dane. Corday's duties kept him out past dark, and the Enforcer was utterly unprepared for the sight that met his eyes when he returned home.

  Claire was asleep, curled up on the couch next to Senator Kantor, who was boldly purring in the dark.

  A stab of something unwelcome drew Corday to frown. "Did she ask you to do that?"

  "No. I knew what would lull her to sleep," Senator Kantor answered in a hushed tone. "Rebecca struggled to fall asleep too. I learned a lot tending my wife in the years the Gods blessed me with my Omega."

  It was taboo to speak of deceased mates; Corday was surprised to hear the Alpha mention Rebecca—especially considering the sad circumstances of her long ago murder by Kantor's political adversary. It had been a sensation and had led to Senator Bergie, several of his staff, and even Bergie's son being incarcerated in the Undercroft.

  Unsure what to say in response, Corday lit a few candles, and dragged a seat over from the kitchen, his face grim as he looked at the sleeping girl. "How was she today?"

  "Better once she ate—less catatonic, more cognizant." Senator Kantor studied the wasted thing. "Miss O'Donnell's physical reaction after having parted from the father will be complicated. The pair-bond and the pregnancy will make her ill."

  Corday had faith things might turn out better. "She told me the pair-bond was broken. As for the pregnancy, I will take care of her."

  Senator Kantor shook his head "It doesn't work that way, son."

  Shooting a look at the Alpha, Corday ground his teeth. "We'll see."

  "Now that you are back, the three of us need to have a discussion." Senator Kantor sat straighter, smoothing his sleeve. "Get dinner in her first; afterward the two of us will explain."

  It was unsettling to be ordered around in his own home, but Corday nodded and went to the kitchen. Simple fare was prepared. There was some fresh fruit for Claire, an apple he'd bartered for a handful of batteries.

  When all was ready, Corday carefully took Claire's limp hand, stroking her fingers until her bleary green eyes popped open. It was obvious she was confused. For just a moment she jerked from his nearness, ready to run. Then it began. The rich rumble of an Alpha purr took Claire from startled to angry.

  The glare she gave Senator Kantor would have been funny had her scent not turned so rancid with fear. "You can stop now."

  The old man conceded.

  Over dinner, the men chose silence. Claire did not. "Is there another bounty?"

  Corday was not going to lie to her. "Yes."

  She forced down another salty bite. "And?"

  "When we observed the Citadel, there was a line of citizens dragging in women of your description."

  Claire cringed. "That's disgusting…"

  "From what I could see, the Followers were letting them go, but citizens are starving." This was Corday's chance to explain why Senator Kantor was really there. "The bounty on your head could keep a family fed for a year. We have to keep you hidden."

  The old Alpha broached the greater issue. "And not just from Thólos."

  Claire cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

  "I need you to understand that what is said cannot leave this room."

  He'd insulted her. "I never told Shepherd a thing. Never," she said.

  "Dissention could be our greater enemy." Ruffling his grey hair, elbows on his knees, Kantor sighed. "Many of our people believe that unification under the Follower's governance would satisfy Shepherd. The fact is, these citizens are numerous and growing more loyal to the dictator's regime than we could have imagined. Our own ranks, even some of our brothers and sisters in arms, have been tempted to the other side. Once ensconced, they cannot be reasoned with. Your appearance within the resistance might offer too great a temptation for any straddling the line. Corday and I both believe they will vie to give you back."

  "We would never let that happen, Claire," Corday interjected, desperate to explain once he saw the look on her face. "Ever. Do you understand?"

  Senator Kantor dared to squeeze her hand. "We need our troops focused. We must find the contagion. To do that, you must stay hidden. No one can know you're here."

  Claire sat silent, processing such information. When she finally spoke, her words were not gentle. "You seem to be a wise man, Senator Kantor, but can't you see that time and further suffering will corrode those loyal to you no matter what? My pregnancy is the key to your success. So long as I am running wild in Thólos with his baby as my hostage, he won't infect the population—not at the risk of infecting me. Now is your chance to strike. Use me and rebel immediately."

  "I disagree… Shepherd's treatment of you has been appalling, negligent in the gravest of ways." Solemn, Senator Kantor denied her. "If we move prematurely, he might release the contagion. I cannot risk millions of lives, your life, on a maybe. I'm sorry, Claire. Until the Red Consumption's location is uncovered, the resistance will make no move."

  The line of Claire's mouth grew sharp. Sitting taller, she looked at both of them as if they were simpletons. "It's not the contagion that keeps us in his power. It's our own cowardice. Every day our people do nothing; the bastard is proving his view of our behavior is correct. The Dome is cracked. Don't you see the weather will kill us long before any virus might? We have to take back our city, or we die trying."

  Senator Kantor put a hand on the Omega's shoulder. "Thólos's citizens are not soldiers; they're scared and have no comprehension of combat. You must understand; many are watching their families suffer, their children are dying."

  Claire shook her head, swallowed her outburst. "No one in this city is a civilian anymore, there is no neutral. Either you are with Shepherd, or you are against him."

  "It isn't that simple, Claire."

  She looked to Senator Kantor, lost. "Isn't it?"

  A deep sigh preceded Senator Kantor's explanation. "You are still young, and will learn in time that things are not always as they seem."

  Claire cocked her head, her previously glowing image of so highly regarde
d a Senator distorted by the sad impotence of such a man. "Shepherd once told me the same thing… You just echoed the words of a madman."

  Senator Kantor offered a conciliatory smile, his look of pity disarming. "I'm asking you to trust me."

  Corday understood what riled her; bone deep, he felt the same away. "We make progress every day, Claire. I swear it to you."

  Claire looked to her friend and could see he had faith in the Alpha charged to lead the rebellion.

  "I understand." And she did. She understood that the longer they waited, the more people would die—that the world was a nightmare where the men and women who'd once sworn to uphold the law might hand her back to a despot for food that would only last so long.

  She understood perfectly.

  She hurt; everyone hurt. And it had to end.

  Once Senator Kantor had left, Corday took her hand, and led her back to the couch to rest. When he had her to himself, Corday smiled and pulled a gift out of his pocket.

  "I have something to cheer you up." The Enforcer, his face dimpled, held up what was pinched between his fingers. "A few weeks ago I went to your residence. Everything was pretty smashed up, but I found this hidden under the lining of your jewelry box."

  He slid a band of gold on her finger.

  The gold was warm, but Claire's reaction to it utterly cold. "This was my mother's wedding ring."

  As a child she'd hated the sight of it, still angry her mother had abandoned her, too young to accept what had happened. Claire had forgotten she'd even had it tucked away. Now it fit, just like her mother's disappointment in life fit. Holding up her hand to view the grim thing, she saw the correlation to her mother's impetus—a pretty, sparkling reminder that one could always choose.

  "Thank you, Corday."

  He took her hand again, stroked her fingers, and promised, "I want you to know that I understand the way you feel, but he's right. If the Senator's life was not gravely threatened, I don't know if I would trust even him with you."

  Claire wasn't sure what to say. "Why haven't either of you asked me about Shepherd?"